could anyone tell anything from a heap of ashes?” Impatience rang in Seth’s voice.
“It’s astonishing the information they can derive from the site. They’re able to distinguish exactly where the fire originated. They can determine the accelerant. Sometimes there are other clues they can find by sifting through the debris. There are certainly cases in which their investigations have led to the apprehension and conviction of arsonists. I remember one instance in which—”
“That’s all well and good, but what should I tell the architect?” Seth broke in. He ran his fingers forcefully through his hair.
Justine was horrified that Seth had already spoken to an architect and wondered when he’d done this. He’d been gone a couple of afternoons but hadn’t mentioned where he was or with whom. Nor had Justine questioned him. The truth was, it had been a relief to have him out of the house. Seth found it impossible to remain in any one place. When he was home, he stalked from room to room, unable to work at anything or even read for more than a few minutes. Unable to relax.
“Your policy covers loss of income for a year,” Robert Beckman continued, flipping a page on his clipboard. “If construction time goes over that, we can request an extension.”
“So the sooner we get started, the better, don’t you agree?” Seth asked. “For the company and for us.”
Robert gave another of his soothing replies, and unwilling to listen to any more, Justine walked across the parking lot to stand at the farthest edge, which over-looked the cove. The wind carried a briny scent on this overcast day, shrouding the pungent smell of smoke.
The view of the cove always calmed her. She absorbed that peace now, needing it to settle her pounding heart. Seth had taken matters into his own hands; without so much as talking to her, he’d held discussions with an architect. When they’d first conceived the idea of The Lighthouse, Justine had been involved in every aspect of the planning. Now Seth had excluded her.
The fire and its aftermath were so much worse than she would ever have believed. Her husband had turned into a stranger, a man Justine neither knew nor liked. The temptation to escape, to pack a suitcase and disappear, grew stronger every day. Warren had offered her the use of a summer cottage on Hood Canal. It sounded so peaceful there. Leif would love to walk along the beach, exploring, wading in the water. She could picture him now, digging for clams with his small shovel, his laughter spilling out into the wind. Not once since Leif was born had they taken a family vacation. The Lighthouse had filled every waking minute. Only in the absence of the restaurant and its demands was she beginning to see how completely it had taken over their lives.
“Justine.” Seth placed his hand on her shoulder as he came up behind her. “Everything’s going to be all right, sweetheart,” he said, his voice conciliatory.
“I know.” The fire, the destruction of the restaurant, was no longer her main concern. What worried her was the effect it’d had on her husband.
“I realize I’ve been a little cranky lately.”
She smiled and pressed her hand on top of his. To say he’d been “a little cranky” was an understatement of major proportions.
“Everything will be all right,” he said again, “once we find out who did this to us.”
“Will it?” she asked, but apparently Seth didn’t hear her because he didn’t respond.
Justine tilted her head to one side so her cheek could rest against his hand. “You’re already talking about rebuilding,” she murmured.
“Of course. I want to get started as soon as possible. Don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know anymore.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” He laughed and seemed to assume she was joking. “We’re in the restaurant business. This is how we make our living. Unless we rebuild, we won’t have an income.”
“Yes, but…”
Her husband went still for a moment. “I can’t go back to fishing, Justine.”
Being a professional fisherman was a hard, dangerous life, and they’d agreed that Seth would give it up for good. His father had encouraged him in that decision.
“I wouldn’t want you to fish,” she said, turning so she could slip her arms around his middle. “I’m just not sure I want to be a restaurant owner anymore.”
Seth gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I…I do,” she countered. “At least I think I do. We went into this business with absolutely no knowledge of what we were letting ourselves in for. We were totally naive about what owning a restaurant takes out of you.”
According to statistics, eight out of ten new businesses fail, and restaurants headed the list. The only reason theirs had been successful was the sheer force of their combined efforts—and a degree of luck.
“We made a few mistakes,” Seth said, then added with a wry grin, “okay, we made a lot of mistakes in the beginning, but we learned quickly and we’ve come a long way.”
“We hardly spend any time together, as a family.” This was the one thing that distressed Justine the most.
Seth didn’t agree or disagree with her.
“You were at the restaurant all hours of the day and night, and so was I.” She supposed that now wasn’t a particularly opportune moment to broach her concerns, not while Seth was still so upset.
“I had to be there. You know that.”
“I’m not blaming you for any of this,” Justine told him, gazing into his intensely blue eyes. He was frowning at her and in him she read confusion and pain.
“Are you suggesting I haven’t been a good husband?” he asked.
“No! That isn’t what I meant at all. I love you and you love me. I could never doubt that.” Then, reluctantly, she said, “I’m afraid, Seth.”
“Afraid? Afraid of what?”
“I’m not sure. I had a panic attack last week. I didn’t know what it was at first. I felt like I wasn’t getting enough air and that I was going to pass out.”
Concern darkened his eyes. “When? Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“How could I? You’ve been so angry, so restless. I didn’t want to add to your worries.”
He slid his arms around her, drawing her close. “I’m sorry, my love. So sorry.”
“I am, too. About everything.”
He lifted his head. “What do you have to apologize for?”
“Because I don’t think I can go back to the way things were before, with you gone so many hours. With me at the restaurant virtually every day. I don’t want our son spending every night with babysitters. I don’t want to go back to the constant worries over money
